All my eggs in one basket...

This morning I pulled on sturdy boots, walked gingerly across the slippery deck, and down to snow over my knees. I carried a bucket of warm water, scraps from last nights supper, and an antique egg basket.

The dogs went with me, taking care of business, checking out the scents in the yard, and playing a quick game of leap and chase.

I went right to the coop. The heat lamp was on, shining a ruddy glow out the glass windows and across the yard. I could hear the chickens, crooning, clucking, rustling about inside. I opened the primitive latch on the door, and the chickens hustled over to see what I had brought for a treat. All except Roberta, who decided a few months ago that she cannot get down off the roost unaided. I steped up into the coop. The air was warmer here, and smelled of clean pine shavings. I lifted Roberta down. She protested half heartedly, then headed straight for the feeder.

Old water was dumped out, and the pan refreshed from the blue bucket I brought. I doled out the treats- left over veggies and pasta. No matter what I bring, it disappears rapidly.

I felt like a treasure hunter as I investigated each straw lined nest box. Five brown speckled eggs, still warm,are slipped into the old basket before I head back through the snow, dogs on my heels.

A wire basket full of eggs on the counter- it somehow sets the tone for day that is certain to be rich in blessings.

Hats off...!

I've never been much of one to wear hats. (That being said, I do fondly remember when I was in Mrs. Carvers second grade classroom, with the bilious green walls,at the Harry Lee Cole school, that I received, for Christmas, a red and white candy cane striped stocking cap with a grapefruit sized white pom pom. That hat was a good 3 feet from tip to brim, and reached to my knees. I adored it with an unwavering passion.) In general, however, I find hats make my head feel funny, and they are often itchy. The nice wool ones have a pungent smell, that while pleasant, becomes tiresome after a while. All hats tend to slip and slide on my fuzzy head, and then there is the issue of hat hair when the thing is removed. For those of us, like me, blessed with big, curly hair, hats reduce us to having flat, smashed hair that cannot be repaired without dunking our head in a bucket of water. And who has time for that?

So, even though I live in New England and spend more than most of my life wrapped in winter weather, I cannot warm up to hats. I did buy a new coat this year that came with a hood, and I have put that hood to good use a few times so far this season. Worn briefly it does not seem to smoosh my hair like a hat would. Then again, the sub zero winds can still dart about inside a hood, and cause my ears to thrum and tingle with cold. It's a conundrum. The above pictured duck is all set for winter in Maine... it's hat permanently attached. It does, however, look like it could use a good set of Bean boots.

Big snow...

Big, deep, it snowed for three days snow. High as my knees snow. Deeper than a pug snow! Blowing, windy, wild snow.

In and out...

Outside...




Inside...
Hard to say which is more inviting.

Old and new...

Standing on the bring of a new year, most of us spend some time thinking of the days past, and wondering about the time to come.

Today it snowed; slow, lazy flakes that fell from a leaden sky. I went for a walk. The icy flakes frosted my hair and muffled the sounds of the world around me. I was taken by the look of this leaf... last seasons life, now dead and frosted with winter ice. Still beautiful. In mere weeks new growth will spring to life here, a different beauty, and wonderous just the same.

I am looking towards the new growth potential that 2010 holds. Of all the things I hope for, I especially hope for growth. I dread remaining stagnant... there is so much left to learn, experience, taste and delight in.

Happy New Year! I wish for you... growth.

Beef...

My friend raises cows. This year she harvested two steers. We are buying one half... in fact, we currently have two freezers packed tight with what we call, "grass fed, free range, dolphin safe, beef." We cooked the first of it recently, N.Y. sirloin strip steaks. Delishious! And tonight I cut the heart up and let the dogs dine upon it. The advertisements are right, beef, it's whats for dinner. For a long, LONG time.

Pony in the snow...

                              Chanel, with her deep, plush winter coat, looks delicious against the snow.